


Sex Deprivation

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: Kinktober 2020 [6]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Ghoul Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Out of Body Experiences, Pheromones, Queen Ant Pheromones, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, dissociative sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: Have you ever thought about writing a sequel to your Sleep Deprivation CharonxFem!LW story? I just read it again and I really liked their dynamic, and Charon's kind of slowly eroding reluctance to admit he has any feelings for her. I know it was SO long ago, but who knows~?A/N: Day 7 of Kinktober! Kink: Sex Pollen! This is a bit wordy for a simple smut premise, but eh... can't help it sometimes. <3
Relationships: Charon (Fallout)/Female Lone Wanderer
Series: Kinktober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958581
Comments: 15
Kudos: 140





	Sex Deprivation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



"Wowzers! Ya know, this could be expensive. I don't know if I wanna give this to her for free. So much trouble to just… give it away, ya know?"

"If it will buy you a decent set of armor, we should sell it," the tall, stoic ghoul beside her suggested matter of factly.

"I dunno,  _ maybe _ . It looks rare enough. I mean… you don't see giant ant mamas on a regular outing. Plus, Angela  _ was _ a little creepy."

Charon grunted in agreement.

At no anxious pace, they walked out of the tunnels—the ant queen rotting in her chamber. It had been easy, killing her and all. The soldier ants were the most troublesome, but the crawlies didn't travel in groups like they'd thought and subsequently had also been easy to dispatch. The queen was so heavy, and the globs she'd flung were more like waves of acid, but two frag grenades had taken her down… and a couple of grudge kicks to the head for good measure. 

This warm sac in her hands was their reward—shaped like a thorax but thin and a little too soft to stick in the pack with everything else. From the smell around them, she could only imagine the horror of what the contents in her hands would reek like if it were popped. Who the hell would find a smell like that arousing?

"Do you want me to carry it?" She heard Charon ask at her side. 

He had  _ offered _ to hold it earlier, and again a few minutes ago, but she'd declined both those offers. Now she had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't trust her to keep it safe, and thus, now she was holding onto it out of spite. 

She turned her head with a confident smile, "You think I'm going to drop it do-" 

She would have finished her rebuttal too, but a crafty rock crawled in front of her foot, and in a moment of supreme irony, she fell forward. It was one of those silly moments where the second it took for her fall, actually felt like a minute. Her arms went forward, her knuckles scraped the ground and—grasped in both hands—the small sac ruptured. She'd have fallen face-first into it if a firm fist hadn't grabbed the collar of her jacket, keeping her chin just a few inches off a bone-splitting surface. 

A moment passed before she growled childishly.

"You were saying?" He rumbled.

"Fiddlesticks!!" She shrieked as he yanked her, with untold ease, back on her feet. 

Her hands dripped with yellow ooze as the ground was slowly being covered with a seeping pool of gunk. A small fortune had quickly turned into… shit.  _ Plus, the smell really was foul.  _

With a disgusted sound, she leaped over the cracked sac, distancing herself a few yards before wiping her hands on her pants—too grossed out to even be upset about losing out on a new set of armor, or a new mod. It was probably the nastiest thing she'd encountered so far, which said enough about the smell.

"I regret not giving it to you… I regret it so… so much.  _ Ugh _ , this smell is putrid!"

"There's no point in crying about it, kid. Let's go. What's done is done." _Always the bastion of reason._ _God_ , she hated him sometimes. He even made the kid comment again, which just added to the stinky humiliation all the more.

"What words of wisdom," she muttered, voice thick with depressive sarcasm, but she nodded, setting her lips in a tight line as her eyes watered from the odor.

"The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can shower that filth off."

"Yeah..." she agreed, shivering, "I thought I'd smelt it all by now, but I was… not correct in that assumption." 

As they found the broken railing, stepping carefully over the jutting shards of weathered metal, fallen rocks, and occasional ant corpses, the smell over her pants and hands turned sweet… almost spicy. It itched in her nose and made her eyes water, but somehow it didn't seem very unpleasant any longer. 

She looked at Charon over her shoulder after gaining an even footing, seeing him sneer as he kicked a corpse out his way. Inside her stomach, she felt a fluttering heat grow. For some reason, her eyes drifted to his thighs as he stepped up onto the intact platform—muscles tensing under the tight leather. Eyes averted from her feet, she stumbled forward, catching herself on the rocky wall with a startled cry.

"Keep your eyes on the ground, or I'll be yanking out broken teeth all evening," he growled.

Paralyzed against the side of the tunnel, she nodded grimly, swallowing a thick lump of spit down her throat as he paused beside her, a brow arched in question. A sense of hysteria gripped her, knowing this feeling growing inside wasn't natural to the current situation. There was a time and place for these feelings—the place being a bed… or, more recently, the sofa—but definitely not here.

"It's nothing," she muttered, gathering herself on her feet and swiping at her forehead. Sweat was forming over her skin, mixing with the sweet smell to make it even more… unusual smelling, "I'm alright."

"If you say so," he sounded uncharacteristically unsure, but she didn't care about that… obsessed, instead, over the heavy rasp that was making her knees tremble. Charon had made her feel like this several times before, but her urges came when they were alone at home or, at the very least, she waited to  _ embrace _ the cravings when they were. 

_ Something wasn't right, _ she finally realized. 

At once, she felt sick and yet perversely needful. Did she puke, or did she tell Charon she suddenly had a hankering for some cock—his cock— _ and would he, please pleasure her with it?  _

When all she did was keep her stance, staring at him, it must have worried him, for she felt his body heat touch her as he stepped closer, peering down.

"Are you sure you're alright? You're sweating."

Did that make her small breasts look bigger beneath the tank top somehow? Was being drenched in sweat attractive to him? Were her nipples standing out against the thin, damp cotton? Because they sure felt like it.

"Yea. I-I'm fine, just feel a little tired. This smell… it's getting to me."

At that, he seemed to shift. The corner of his thin mouth twitched, but even now, it was pretty hard to figure out if he was smirking—a rare occurrence—or frowning, which was a daily exercise. 

Once more, she swallowed, trying to shake off prickly heat that had sunk from her stomach to her thighs, between them and upwards. Indeed, something was wrong, and now that she had admitted it altogether, she knew the culprit was the ant pheromones. Contrary to popular belief, knowing what was causing her 'condition' did little to ease her nerves, really, it only heightened them. Having studied the mind-altering effects of them in the Vault during her many adventures to the computer labs, gave her enough information to tremble.

What was there to do but strip off her shorts, down her hands in their last water bottle, and curl up in a ball pretending she was sick?

_ Put up with it,  _ she told herself. Just suffer through it with dignity and crawl into Charon's lap once they were back in Megaton, where he could work all this out of her as she bit down on her wrist, exorcising the biological compulsion with a semblance of dignity…

Sighing, while both damning him and her own carelessness, she pushed off the wall and proceeded out of the tunnels. 

Every step felt slow. 

The tunnels just went on and on, but somehow the end found its way to them, and with no small amount of relief, she nearly sobbed, knees practically rattling. Never before had she been so happy to smell the rancid waters of the Metro Station.

"Thank the ever-loving and illusory Lord," she whimpered, running a hand down her face to wipe away the gathering perspiration. Only when she paused to savor this small victory did she turn around, realizing Charon hadn't said a word since their brief stop.

"Hey, are you ok-" she started and ended at the sight of him. 

He looked… intense—looked like he was waiting for her to charge in one direction or another like a wasteland lizard, trying to figure out her next move so he could strike accordingly.

Confused, she looked behind her, scanning the turn station with apprehension, but nothing was lurking in the shadows, just them… and that sugared-death smell that was turning her brain into a secondary sex organ.

A fresh wave of sweat flooded her pores, and another pool of dampness soaked between her legs, skipping straight to slickening her inner thighs since she could no longer afford the luxury of underwear. Without that scrap of clothing, her own body was an even worse annoyance; for that very reason, her eyes shifted down to the codpiece between Charon's thighs. 

She looked away sharply when she realized how obvious her gaping was, but he made that throaty rumble she knew well from their times, making love in the middle of the day. She swallowed, almost feeling the way he felt inside her during those overwhelming sessions. Nothing would please her more than to ask him right now.  _ Screw the time and place. _

__

"Congratulations, kid, you were right," his voice cut between them like a knife, and suddenly she needed a cigarette even though she didn't smoke, "It's not the  _ smell _ . It's the _ contact _ ."

"I… don't know. The smell is pretty-" another swallow, this time dry which just made The Lone Wanderer thirsty… so thirsty, "... I  _ umm _ , don't remember talking about the absorption method, but… it's making my head swim."

"What would you have me do?" Charon asked in a voice as devoid of personality as he could, but she knew from the way his milky eyes shifted across her rosy cheeks, that he was just as eager as she was. Ever since he managed to turn her sleep cycle around, he had been much less hesitant in voicing his feelings, even if it was just the purely physical feelings he felt comfortable voicing. 

_ Baby steps were still steps… especially with someone as repressed as him… _

But, truthfully, his readiness to help only made her feel worse. He should have known better than to offer his 'services' right here and now if that's what he was doing. 

The moan on the tip of her tongue died when she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, feeling everything being squeezed so pleasantly. Maybe that sensation, and the overflowing endorphins pile-driving her brain was what made her too bold, or as Charon would put it—too stupid. Perhaps he'd have a different word for it now because even beneath the codpiece, she could discern a shaded bulge that wasn't usually so pronounced.

"I.. I don't know?" She stuttered, cheeks flushed in untold embarrassment over how to approach this situation with grace. If that was at all possible.  _ Probably not. _ The Lone Wanderer swallowed thickly, leaning against a desk scattered with faded paperwork and gasped at the urge to pull herself upon it and spread her legs. The thought of being ravished on this desk assaulted her mind like a fond memory. It played before her eyes in much more gory detail than any of her other chaste fantasies.

Charon assessed her like she'd seen him consider the endless nooks and crannies of The Mall, checking for the slightest movement that'd give a greedy sniper away. For a moment, he looked under a similar spell as her—eyes hooded and mouth set tight in a grimace—before she saw that stone-cold expression erase the desire on his face. 

Under his breath, Charon rasped, "If you want me to  _ fuck _ this away, you need to tell me."

_ Fuck _ —that word on his tongue made a spike of pleasure, as sharp as any knife dig deep up some invisible root in her body, but she wasn't so far gone to not be annoyed by the robotic way he offered her release.

"Why do I have to say it? Is… isn't it sort of… obvious?" The pheromones' effects were more potent than she thought, but her ingrained shame over voicing the specific request persisted. Also, she wasn't sure she couldn't hold this in until later…  _ maybe… _

"I won't assume anything when it comes to you. Say it, and I'll do it."

The thought of all the filth of this setting and the unorthodox  _ everything else  _ excited her more than the softer thoughts of making love later on. She didn't want gentle. Nor did she care why the version of her five minutes ago gave a fuck about it, to begin with.

Tomorrow she could blush and coo over the repercussions of her actions. Today, she would gladly accept the foreign smell that had given her the wacky courage to embrace this side of her.

Just like Charon's response to her unhealthy sleeping habits, this was a long time coming.

"Why don't you come over here and make me scream it instead?" She managed through the suffocating haze. Sober-her would have rolled her eyes at this near-slurring, sex-crazed version of herself. She only hoped Charon didn't have the same reaction to her she would have.

"You-" he started then paused, looking away when she spread her thighs and put her hands between them, gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles tingled. She'd never seen a man, ghoul especially, go so quickly from eager to disinterested.

"This ain't like you. When you're in your right state of mind, I'll fuck you to pieces; for now, let me get us home."

That almost made her close her legs and shy away, but he was wrong about this. She'd wanted to take charge before, be more aggressive like he was once she warmed him up with tender kisses and hugs. Now she had the courage, or inhibition, to present herself like this and not blush so hard she passed out.  _ Maybe it was bad timing? _ Unfortunately, or fortunately, that logical part of her brain was getting pile driven by a massive wave of sexual frustration and chemical-induced arousal, and she wasn't a pro at handling that shit. 

"What if I ordered you to?" She blurted, realizing too late how foolish and disgusting her words were.

He snorted derisively, "I suppose you really are intoxicated to think that would work."

She looked down, half-aroused but mostly mortified. Even while she sat there trying to figure out how to apologize, her fingers itched to slip beneath her pant's hem. It wouldn't take long to get rid of the ache on her own… would it?

Charon cleared his throat and gulped as her chest heaved. A sudden frenzy gripped her like a poison—a fever where thought was fast fading. 

" _ Crackers _ ..." she cursed, "I-I'll… be right back… just gotta-" she couldn't finish her sentence, but it was clear what she needed to do. 

Like an upturned mirelurk, she wiggled blindly until she slid off the table. The movement caused her shorts to ride up against her slit—abrasive fabric on sensitized flesh—which nearly brought her to her knees. She stumbled through the open door to the right on numb joints, swinging around the lip of it. 

Charon barked her name, probably something about 'safety concerns and ferals' but if he wasn't going to help her with this—fuck her so to speak—then she had to erase the need before they reached the wasteland somehow. She'd get them killed if this feeling didn't go away. Plus, she could still vaguely remember clearing this area out beforehand. 

She swore she heard his boots bounding on the metal floor during her stumble of shame, but her blood was rushing too hard in her ears to hear much else but her heartbeat and her own ragged breathing.  _ God _ , she'd never been so turned on in her whole life. A pink-hue Deathclaw could have been lurking five-feet ahead of her, and she'd have barreled right into it. 

_ This ant stuff was insane! _

She turned around at the last minute, almost missing a storage room they'd both cleared not but a few hours ago. It was still empty, as it had been when they first stepped inside, all except some metal boxes and a messy desk with a broken computer console.

Landing violently over the sooty surface, she drew in a healthy breath; her head was in such a state that she nearly swooned while jerking her pants down around her hips. Damp air stroked against her wetness with each shuffle, easing the tattered denim over her rear. The thick atmosphere felt cold, the closest thing to air conditioning she'd felt in a while. It was made even more special thanks to the heat in her cheeks—both bottom and top. 

She swallowed, realizing too late that Charon was right about her being embarrassed, but not for the reasons he thought. The pleasure, when she shoved her own hand between her thighs where the slippery flesh was swollen and ready, was enough to make her finish. 

She came against the desk with a few uncoordinated strokes, barely feeling an ounce of relief before stuffing two fingers inside dripping heat, hoping for more. It felt like a hot minute of endless searching, trying painfully hard to find that depth Charon could reach easily. 

Drool slid down her lower lip, off her chin, and only then did she call out for Charon to come and fuck her already. It echoed off the walls and cement tunnels, but she didn't care. She screamed again, shivering with unsatisfied lust.

"F-fuck… shit..." she whined in expletives, dropping her forehead to her bent arm. Bracing herself, she pushed her rear out in a show that still managed to embarrass her through the haze.

Behind her, Charon's boots stepped closer.  _ How long had he been standing there watching? _ —she couldn't say, but it didn't matter. He was here, and if he loved her even an iota of the love she felt, he'd grant her this mercy. Mindlessly, she begged for him to fuck her, nearly—almost—starting to wonder if it even  _ was _ him standing behind her. 

Before the cold chill of uncertainty could kindle into fear, two rough, ghoulified hands landed on her shoulders. Charon's grip was too unique—too strong—to be anyone else's. At once, she was relieved and then terrified, bracing for a massive thrust of cock that didn't come. Instead, vertigo struck her as he flipped her around and flung her up on the table—bare ass on the dirty metal. 

Charon fumbled with the tangled pants still around her ankles. Denim ripped before her jeans fell to the floor, cushioning Charon's sudden plunk to his knees.

Her lungs tried their hardest to suck in air, but no matter how hard she breathed, she couldn't get enough.  _ What was he- _

Charon bruised her inner knees while shoving them apart, leaning in with an open mouth, eyes wide but glazed. Before she could so much as ask what he was doing, he yanked her close and shoved his mouth between her thighs; licking, tonguing and sucking. 

Her whole body seized, making Charon's tongue more of a cattle prod than a smooth muscle. Rough lips, wet from her own arousal rubbed at that nub of flesh with abandon. It didn't seem he knew what he was doing, but neither did she, and skill didn't matter. The pleasure was a shock, and her brain and body couldn't comprehend it into sounds. All she could manage was raspy breaths and periodic shivers as the intensity grew.

When he growled out something feral and pushed one of those thick, mangled fingers inside her, she sobbed, " _ Ohh… _ fuuuck me!"

The descriptor 'lewd' came to mind, yet she continued whispering "fuck” over and over until it became an unending string of syllables. 

Tears sprang at the corner of her eyes, and to steady herself from falling backward or forwards, she grasped the back of his head. He gave a growl and nipped at her cleft, licking a hot trail down the crease of her inner thigh before suckling at her inner lips.

She could hear the sounds of his mouth slurping at her, more erotic than she'd thought it'd be, but so damn loud. Everything felt like someone had dialed up the intensity to eleven. 

Knowing how much he relished the idea of corrupting her with his size and torn flesh, she relaxed—or tried to. Based on the throaty growls and soft snarls against her, she could have sworn he was at least enjoying himself half as much as she was, but any thoughts besides what his fingers and mouth were up to slipped away when he pressed another inside her. All of it was enough to make her come again. White light exploded in a starburst behind her eyes, and a great wash of pleasure made her toes curl, and her jaw ache before it pooled in her belly. Her thigh quivered and jerked under his hand while her fingers bunched up in his thin, copper hair, hips bucking against his mouth.

When the wave of her first real, satisfying orgasm peaked, she felt her insides sucking on his fingers just as his mouth did.

Not a single sound escaped her throat, it was too good. 

The Lone Wanderer couldn't even exhale a moan as Charon kept licking at her, thrusting inside her, slower and slower until his lips were merely pressed against her wetness, and his fingers had slipped away to stroke the soft skin beneath her navel.

Finally, she breathed, and with it came a quivering moan, quiet and satisfied. But the ache—the ache was still there.

"Charon..."

He responded by kissing her clit. An expression of emotion that shocked her, making her jerk and gasp as an aftershock rushed through her. His voice on her skin made her shiver, "Let's get you home now. Come on-"

"No."

She gazed down at him—his head still between her legs and a shine of his saliva or her own fluids on his tattered lips and chin. Foggy blue eyes looked back up at her, both defiant and patient.

"I need you to take that cock in your pants… and," she almost backtracked at the taste of that word on her tongue, but continued, "-and put it right…  _ here _ ." 

She slid a shaking hand above her center, hoping that would meet his so-called admission to the Charon Train. But he didn't get up, just stared up at her with a hungry but warning expression. 

She'd beg if that's what he wanted. "Please," because dignity was for tomorrow.

A minute seemed to pass before he stood up, towering over her with a nasty expression. 

"You should have just given me the fucking thing in the first place." Though his words were meant to chastise her, his hand went to his waist. She found—with a flood of heat—his belt was already undone.

"If-" she started, breathing in deeply that leather smell he carried around, "If you really don't want to, I… you can bind my hands and feet. I'll forgive you for carrying me home, slung over your broad shoulder…  _ tied up. _ .." Just the thought led her brain into a sensual purgatory she didn't know how to come back from. At least not without his help.

Charon pressed his face to hers—rough, patchy forehead to her smooth, sweaty one—and bared his teeth. "Don't talk anymore, or I will snap you in half. I do not wish to hurt you..."

She blinked, confused by his words, but eager to see a resolution to this persistent arousal. 

All she could do was lean back, head bowed, and lips parted as he stripped his belt off, letting it clatter to the metal floor with a sharp sound. Harsh fingers, rough and half-covered in leather gloves, grabbed her behind a knee and spread her open while his other hand slid beneath his pants' brahmin-hide crotch. 

She stared openly, heart racing faster and faster as the leather part. Charon's cock nearly burst free from its confines, which was somehow more massive and more appealing than she remembered it ever before. It looked slightly angry, perhaps mimicking the expression on Charon's face but with engorged veins and a weeping tip rather than a sneer and one toasty glare. 

Apprehension, desire, terror, and desperation clogged her brain, but she just spread her thighs wider.  _ The brain was a slave to the body after all, or was it the other way around? _ Either way, she knew, deep down, that even if Charon felt some of the effects as she were, he'd never hurt her.

"Relax your core, or this is not going to happen. I won't hurt you," Charon heaved, voicing her thoughts, then suddenly, she understood the fear attached to this lack of control. It didn't matter they had done this many times before or that she knew he loved her despite him never saying it. Charon was afraid of damaging her, for she was much too small for him… but honestly, the idea of it hurting, made her tremble with need.

Her breath came quicker—her chest rising unsteadily as her eyes trailed down to the sight of his length aiming for her. The more she stared, and the longer he waited to fuck her, the more she wanted it to hurt. She wanted the pain.  _ Needed it. _

Looking up at his face—mouth half-open and eyes sliding along her chest—she pulled her shirt up and over her head, exposing her naked breasts with a shiver. Even the air felt like it was touching her newly exposed skin. 

Charon's mouth closed into a thin line. The bulge in his throat bob as he swallowed, emitting a low rumble. A sly smile captured her lips as a primal feeling encompassed her. She never quite got used to him looking at her like that. It wasn't like she had anything special going on, but that look on his face made her believe otherwise. 

Charon seemed to forget how close he was to being inside her. When he released his grasp on her knee—hands sliding up her stomach, around her back and over her breasts—she did too. The feel of all those uneven patches of skin and calluses scratching her nipples was life-changing, in that she forgot what life was, only caring about the warm, radiating pleasure beneath his palms.

"You're going to regret this..." he rasped, voice dipping down to an octave that vibrated her lungs, "... and I'll have to clean up my mess." 

Charon growled, teeth clenching as he shoved her back over the table. A coffee mug rolled off and shattered to the floor. His mouth went to her breasts, tongue laving up one globe until her nipple caught on his bottom teeth, and he took it between them—sucking violently. There was pain, but it felt like a scalding hot shower. So good… and so intense.

Each suck felt like little sparks emanated from his mouth, surging straight down between her legs. Rough lavs of his tongue forced strangled whimpers from her as his hands massaged her other breast and naked hip. 

"Please, Charon… it's too much-" she sobbed as his teeth toyed with each nipple, thumbs replacing them when his mouth latched and started sucking once more. " _ Please-please _ …  _ now… _ "

He told her to shut up, which only made her squirm. Instead of asking him to kindly start fucking her, she shifted downward, feeling her nipple escape his mouth as she struggled to get a grip around his cock. Charon practically snapped in her face when her slim fingers tightened around his slickened head—teeth biting at the air like a rabid feral. At once, it was terrifying and then immensely arousing. 

A few tugs upon his cock calmed the beast. 

"It's affecting you too," she accused, tone husky, nearly giddy.

Charon hissed as she tugged him closer and dropped his head to her shoulder as he finally— _ finally _ —thrust inside. She expected some amount of discomfort—some amount of pain to alight in her overly sensitive insides, but he slid in smoothly.

It wasn't like her to cry during sex, but according to Charon, she was apt to get emotional at times… it's just that, it felt so good to finally be filled after what felt like eons of being so empty.

" _ Oh _ , Charon," she cried as he breathed raggedly against her neck, teething her jugular with every inch she took. If it felt this good for her, she could only imagine what his experience must be. Hopefully, the pleasure was equal now that he could feel how easily she took him in—how little it truly hurt. 

Only when she felt him hit her limit, did she wince, but by that time, Charon was already pulling out to drive back in. The first real thrust was more profound than she would have preferred had she been without the pheromones piling inside her bloodstream. The second plunge of cock was even more so, but the third thrust was perfect. Whether or not he found a depth she could handle, or if her body had quickly grown used to him bashing her cervical muscles, she couldn't say. 

Tomorrow she could worry about it. Besides, the wasteland was still bursting with stimpacks aplenty. Charon could do his worst, and she'd manage just fine.

After several pumps of his hips, Charon pulled his teeth out of her neck and braced himself above her. He locked his elbows over the rickety table, then laid into her.

His pounding hips snapped her back across the table, bouncing her body as the sweat adhered her shoulder to the surface. With every thrust, her breasts burned with friction. Each movement sent each muscle into an itchy spasm of clenching and loosening that was just shy of too much. 

She came again, quiet, and satisfied. 

While he fucked her with calculated motions a machine would envy, she could nearly hear her flesh's wet constriction convulsing around his. The sensation felt like beautiful strangulation—something covered it sweetness and roasted beside a campfire. 

As her muscles pulsed and squeezed Charon's cock, a wire short-circuited in her brain. A fever broke, covering her in sweat that made his thrusts clap between her thighs—wet, loud smacks coupled with her clogged, stuttering screeches for more.

"Harder! Harder!  _ Harder! Harrr- _ " she froze over the table, stricken with an overwhelming disassociation of her own skin, muscle, and nerves.  _ An out of body experience _ , she recalled learning from her Vault classes. 

All that was left of her seemed to shoot upwards, lifting from her physical form, washing whatever was left in a soft euphoria. For a moment, she lurched against the sensation, trying to grapple onto whatever she could to regain some sense of self, but then, just like that, she gave into it. 

From above, she could see Charon fisting the loose hair at the side of her head, tilting her sweaty, tear-filled face back in an open-mouthed peel and pleasure. He was rocking into her, slower now, almost like he found time to savor it all while the pheromones did what they did to him. Apparently, it did this to her, which she wasn't exactly complaining about but…

"Ch-Charon," she heard herself moan.

His pace slowed even more, becoming the gentle, loving pace she was more used to. Back before her body had adjusted to the size of him, he never fucked her with even an ounce of the way he'd fucked her now… but The Lone Wanderer didn't want slow. 

This chemical soup of aphrodisiacs and affection turned her into a crazed, unsatisfied heathen. Future her will probably be a little embarrassed about it too, but she clawed at Charon's exposed spine anyway, begging for more. Fingers dug between tough scar tissue and open nerve fissures until he snarled. 

She growled back, drove her hips down into his, and watched from above as he picked up a calf and slung it over his shoulder, opening her up to a full onslaught. 

Experiencing too much stimulus to vocalize anything but grunts, she let the motions rock her beneath him. The Lone Wanderer watched as his shoulders flexed beneath the leather jacket. His shoulder guards raised as his back bowed, and his backside snapped forward again and again, and again.

All his efforts kept her aloft in a haze of cotton-soft clouds until he struck a chord deep in her womb that brought her back. Like a pulse of psycho, she gasped, pulling in air while Charon bruised the meat of her thigh and tore fine hairs from her scalp. 

"I-" she tried, but failed. 

Charon's face hovered inches above hers—furious with lines beneath his ghoulified features as he tensed with each thrust. 

"I can't-"better that time but still only a blip on the radar. She couldn't handle another orgasm. Any more pleasure and the dissociative results might land her in permanent limbo. _ But, would that be so bad? _

"I' m-cumming," Charon warned.

Not but a second or so later, a liquid heat stretched her gently. Charon released her hair, tugging her other calf in his palm. He put both her booted feet into his shoulder, knees pressed to her chest as he folded over her, and finished with breathy snarls that warmed her flushed face. It hurt for only a moment, and then a satisfied throbbing replaced the friction. 

Between the harsh grip from his fingers to the ruthless and uncoordinated pounding of her slit, it was his own end that felt almost subtle. 

The comedown came on slowly. But almost immediately after the last gentle ooze of cum filled her, Charon's death grip around her body loosened. The near frothing madness watches into the scarring across his face relaxed. Even a rare bead of sweat slid over his temple down a sharp cheekbone. 

"Pain level?" He asked, breathing heavily while unlocking his fingers from her shins. Something in his posture had already reverted to his usual 'stoic wall of apathy' but one big thumb stroked her knee cap, and that reassured her everything was okay despite her body feeling very… fragile.

"... it's less pain and more… totally body exhaustion," she admitted. Just trying to curl up into her elbows was impossible. "Do we have any buffout left? I ca n't-can't move."

Charon's scarred brows pulled inward. His teeth clicked together, but he nodded, grumbling, before slowly—carefully—pulling out of her. She closed her eyes as a tear slipped from her lashes. The feeling wasn't painful, but her insides were beyond raw and overstimulated, nearly enough so that her body almost tried to urge her towards another orgasm before the fat, soft head of ghoul cock slipped from her. Just her thoughts alone were enough to remind her how heavy the pheromones still lingered. Usually, even thinking about-

" _ Oh-oh _ , gosh." A heaping deluge of cum began to flow, tickling those distant licks of more pleasure—more orgasms she wasn't ready or able to handle. 

"... wow, that's a lot."

A rare smirk twitched in the corner of Charon's thin lips. It was so fast, she thought she missed it, but then the audible sound of all that semen began dripping to the metal floor—echoing in the steel metro's office—and Charon's quick smirk grew into a dark look of intensity.

"Wait here. Don't move…"

The Lone Wander didn't argue this time if she did before? Hard to remember while all these hormones crashed into mini-nukes beneath her skin. Also, it wasn't like she could move anyway. 

Charon moved just outside the small office's corrugated doorway, bent over, and hauled their backpack over his shoulder. Assorted bits like chems, bullets, magazines and spare parts rattled inside and thunked down with a racket on the table beside her. A bottle of buffout clicked with a single pill as Charon lifted it aloft like some holy grail. She was surprised that doves didn't return from extinction and start chirping as rays of sunshine peeled into the Metro Station's depths like some angelic procession. 

"Thank goodness…"

One buffout and five minutes of Charon struggling to stuff her limbs back in her clothes later, she was swinging her legs blissfully on the desk, humming 'Let's Go Sunning' much to Charon's mild irritation. She watches him reload their weapons, assess her reflexes with short gaps to her knobby knees, and a swaying finger in front of her face. As usual, she passed his tests with flying colors.

They were one queen ant pheromone sac short of a decent adventure, but her insides were comfy and cozy and swollen with love that she might even call this a success later… once they were home, of course. 

Until then, she'd suffered stolen glances back at her ghoul companion when the coast was clear. Maybe, later, when they were both lying down for the night, she'd crawl on top and ride him like he showed her on the sofa months back. Could still be the aphrodisiacs but, she was hungry for his touch—starved for his… cock… and all too eager to see how much her body could suffer under his unhinged lust a second time.

"Ready to go home now?" She asked, grinning sheepishly despite the twinkle in her eyes.

Charon grunted, back to communicating via nonverbal throat sounds, but she knew. If she was still feeling it, then so was he, and from the smokey glaze across his foggy eyes, he was just as eager to find their favorite spot upstairs in their Megaton home.

"Onward bound then, my Stalwart Ghoul!"

It was worth the unpopular moniker just to have Charon growling warmly behind her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. All typos are my own. If you have time, please let me know what you think. <3
> 
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